


Wavered Dreams

by dimmockdock



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Inception - Freeform, Limbo, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-10
Updated: 2013-09-10
Packaged: 2017-12-26 04:24:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/961520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dimmockdock/pseuds/dimmockdock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something in the rain reminds him of her, even if he can't place what it is.</p>
<p>Clint and Natasha and the dreams that hold them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wavered Dreams

Something in the rain reminds him of her, the heavy drops cascading from the sky like paratroopers. The hit the pavement with a splash, puddles already formed after only a minute.

“What’s wrong?” She wraps an arm around his waist and leans her head against his shoulder. She feels solid and warm, like a windowsill on a sunny day.

“Nothing. What’s up?” The words catch in his throat like knives and he sits his coffee mug down on the windowsill and turns to face her. “Why are you here?”

She smiles at him warmly, dimples forming in her cheeks and the pang in his chest is like Romania all over again, like Budapest, like Paris, like Budapest the second time. “You know the answer, Barton. You’re smarter than you pretend to be.”

He laughs shakily. “Yeah, I guess I do.” He turns back to face the window, staring as trees bend beneath the weight of water. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“But you want me here.” She takes his hand in hers and she feels so real, so unlike anything else in this dream, that it makes him want to sob and fall into her all over again. The weight of the ring in burning a hole in his pocket and he wants to take it out and run his fingers over it, make her hold it so she can see what’s going on.

“Yeah, I do. But Tash-” His words die in his throat and the dream waivers around them, the small apartment turning into Budapest, into a street that he can’t forget. Natasha smiles at him and there’s blood trickling down her head, the red blending in perfectly with her hair, a chameleon like her.

“Oh Barton,” She glances around them and her smile look crueler this time around. “You never do forget, do you?”

The burning out streetlamps send dim light washing over the two of them, the blood of her hair shining dimly in the light. “I don’t know.” She fits perfectly against his side and she feels warm, alive and not like after Budapest. 

She smiles again and the dream starts to dissolve around her, buildings folding down and lampposts being sucked into the ground. “Au revoir, Barton. See you on the surface.”

*

The dredges of Clint’s brain are cities sprouting out of swamps and striped tents sprawling out in the middle of fields. Coulson passes a building that almost looks like the hotel they were staying in before, but the stone is crumbling into dust, as if no one has stayed in it for years. A tree is growing on the roof, its branches spreading out to impossible lengths, masking streets from the brutal sun. He keeps walking.

He finds Clint on the top of an apartment building, a bow in his hands. Coulson makes his footsteps louder than usual, dust sticking to the leather of his shoes.

“Interesting choice of weaponry.” Coulson crouches down next to Clint but stays a few feet away, creating a gap between the two of them that hasn’t existed since Budapest.

“Phil?” Clint blinks at Coulson and sets his bow down next to him but doesn’t move from his hunters crouch. “What are you doing here?”

“You’re in limbo, Clint. Remember the job?” It had been a simple extraction, Clint running point and then he had been shot through the head on the fourth level. Nothing like a bullet to send you down here.

Clint pulls a wedding ring out of his pocket, runs his fingers across the band and swears. “How long have I been down here?”

“An hour on the surface? Feeling alright?” Coulson studies Clint. He looks tired and dusty, but not hurt. “Ready to go?” 

He shakes his head and picks up his bow. “There’s someone else down here.”

“Who?” Coulson leads the way off the roof, the metal stairs transforming their footsteps into thunderstorms. 

“Natasha.” Clint looks at Phil and doesn't break eye contact. He looks as certain as he did the day he brought her in; the only difference in his face is the age.

“Clint,” Coulson keeps his voice soft and places a hand on Clint’s shoulder, “Natasha is dead.”

“No, I’ve seen her, she’s here, Phil, I swear it’s her.” Clint’s voice raises in pitch and he starts to sign as he talks, his hands moving so quickly that Coulson can’t even start to decode the gestures. “We have to get her, please-”

“Clint!” Coulson cuts him off. “She died in Budapest, she’s dead, whatever you’re seeing is your own projection.”

Clint recoils as if Coulson had slapped him. He starts to open his mouth when a voice cuts him off.

“Did you miss me Phil?” A voice croons from behind and Coulson turns and it’s Natasha right there, in person, but not really. Everything is a little off; her hair is too red now and it looks as if her curls are made of blood. Her dress pulls tight against her hips and he can see the outline of her holster there and he knows that the real Natasha would never be that careless. Every weapon she used was carefully hidden; she would never let an outline show.

“You’re not real.” Coulson pulls his gun out from its holster and holds it low, pointing it to the ground.

She smiles at Coulson like he’s a particularly stupid child that she has to deal with. “Am I not? Why is this any less real from what’s going on up there?” She takes a step towards them and Coulson clicks the safety off his gun.

“I will not hesitate to shoot you.” He says the words slowly and pronounces each one carefully like it’s a bullet he’s loaded into his gun. 

She laughs, a sound like bells, and it is Natasha’s laugh, down to the way that it trails lower at the end. She smiles fondly at the two of them and shakes her head. “No you won’t.”

Coulson moves his gun to point it at her head. Behind him, he can hear Clint take a high pitched breath, the air sliding between his teeth. “Yes I will.”

She laughs again, it’ sharper now and when she smiles it looks more tiger than person. “Let’s go with maybe. Maybe you’ll shoot me, but it won’t matter.” She strolls around the two of them and pauses next to Clint. She places her hand on his cheek and smiles like she really means it. “But I’ll still be here,” she murmurs and Coulson feels like he’s intruding just by being in the same room as the two of them. He’s always felt like that with the two of them. She leans in closer and Coulson sees her lips brush Clint’s eat and can see the set of his shoulders change. “Always.” 

Coulson places a hand on Clint’s wrist and pulls. “Come on,” A whirling starts to grow outside. “That’s our kick.”

Clint’s eyes linger on Natasha for a second and Coulson pulls in his wrist again. “Clint.”

Natasha smiles. “Go,” she pulls her hand away from his face and Clint flinches from the shock. “I’ll always be here, in your mind.”

Clint lingers for a second longer and the whirlwind pulls closer, the panes of glass in the windows shattering. Then, he nods and follows Coulson out the window, wind whipping at their clothes. Coulson pulls Clint close, hugging his wiry body to his chest, the bow that doesn’t really exist separating the two of them.

**Author's Note:**

> My second thing and only almost a year later! I wrote another Inception-type thing a while ago and never got around to posting it. It has more of a plot then the last one, so there's that! I promise I'll post something longer next time.


End file.
